Delayed Reaction
by shipperjunkie
Summary: This is a prompt fill for an LiveJournal Damon Salvatore Comment Ficathon. The prompt: Damon/Elena, they have a sexual relationship now (it's not the first time) but Damon's...er, having a hard time. Getting there. So Elena has to help him a little extra.


"Sorry," he mumbles, eyes clenched tightly shut, sweat dripping down his face as he continues to thrust. And thrust. And thrust. He knows she has to be thinking will this never end? Is he ever going to come? Honestly, he wonders the same - he's been on the verge for several long moments now, balls tightened, panting, muscles straining as he fucks her into the mattress. So close, so close but for some reason no closer, his release remaining frustratingly just out of his reach.

He's kneeling between her thighs, her legs hooked over his forearms, and he opens his eyes to find her watching him, watching his face. She has her hands braced against the headboard and her breasts bounce beautifully as she meets his thrusts, doing her best to help him along in the aftermath of her own orgasm. Her body is lit by the late afternoon sunlight flooding her bedroom, a fine sheen of sweat clings to her perfect skin, and to his surprise she bites into her swollen lower lip and arches, whining a little in the back of her throat.

Elena never really has multiple orgasms, not unless he goes after it with a single-minded determination like it's his goal in life to get her off more than once in rapid succession. On the rare occasions he does manage to make it happen, she's so fried afterward she won't let him near her clitoris again for at least a day, sometimes two. That never goes over well with him. As far as he's concerned, Damon and Elena's Clit are the best of friends by now (DS+EG's C 4Eva) and he doesn't like to be away from his new buddy for that long.

This isn't really a second orgasm she's having, it's what she likes to call an 'aftershock,' a weaker echo of a much stronger release. Her gorgeous pussy clenches weakly around him and he fucks her right through her little 'aftershock' thing with a strong, steady pace, but even that does nothing to help his situation.

He should be going off like a Roman candle but he just . . . can't . . . fucking get there. (And a tiny part of his mind thinks it's pretty unfucking fair that she's had one and a half to his zero this time.)

He knows she has to be growing uncomfortable. He isn't all the comfortable himself anymore. His knees have begun to burn, the toes of his left foot are starting to cramp a bit, and he pauses long enough to shift his weight and readjust his grip on her. He's just about to begin thrusting hard again when she lets go of the headboard to lay her hands flat against his chest in order to stop him.

"Hey, hey," she whispers, breathless, her hands sliding up to his shoulders and neck. "I'm not going anywhere, you can slow down a little." Her eyes are still slightly unfocused and glassy but also concerned. He's never taken this long before, not with her, and he can tell she wants to ask what's bothering him. Thankfully she doesn't because he doesn't even know what his deal is, and the last thing he wants is a drawn-out discussion right now. Instead of probing for answers she struggles in his grasp until he lets go of her legs and they fall to either side of him on the bed.

"Let's try something else," she asks, tugging at his shoulders.

He slips from Elena's body as he scoots back, and then he stretches over her and and eases his weight on top of her. He won't crush her but he shoves his forearms under her shoulder blades anyway to brace himself. Settling himself into the familiar cradle of her hips, his cock slides against her slick folds and even that feels so good he can't help but grind a little.

"Hi," she whispers with a smile, eyes soft, and they're so close she only has to lean her head up the littlest bit in order to capture his lips in a sweet, soft kiss.

His mouth opens over hers and he kisses her back, slowly, thoroughly, pressing her head back into her pillow as her arms circle his shoulders and hold him close. Her legs must be tired but she winds them around his hips anyway, drawing them back and opening up for him. Damon briefly nudges around with the tip of his cock until he finds her slick opening then slides inside her once again.

He breaks the kiss to lean his sweaty forehead down to press against hers, and they breathe together as he begins to thrust again. Only slower this time, long lazy strokes that don't get him anywhere, either, but feel so incredible he almost doesn't care. Elena slides her hands up over his shoulders and his neck to cup his face, and then they're kissing again, kissing and kissing, tongues slipping past lips to explore familiar territory.

The heat between them is sweltering, both their bodies slick with sweat, strands of her hair somehow sticking to both of them. He was wrong, though, to think he wouldn't be able to get off this way, that this wouldn't be enough friction for him; already, he can feel his release in the base of his spine, feel raw desire pool low in his belly. His muscles tighten in anticipation and he breaks their kiss again, lifting his head to look down at her.

Her eyes are focused now, big and bright with emotion, and she opens her mouth to say something. Probably to tell him that she loves him. She tells him every time and it never fails to fuel his fire for her. Sometimes she says it afterward, though, breathes it into his ear and it soothes him, quiets something inside him like nothing else he's ever known.

It's his night for surprises because what she says is not 'I love you.'

Tightening around his cock, she rubs her breasts and her hardened nipples against his chest, pulling out all the stops. When she speaks, her voice is somehow both fierce and soft, intense.

"Come."

It's a plea, a command, hell, it might be some sort of compulsion, whatever. It works. He thrusts deep and stills, throbbing out his release with a groan, spilling himself inside her. It's such a fucking relief he begins to laugh when he can breathe again.

He opens his eyes to find her smiling broadly up at him, proud of herself, smug and beautiful. She laughs a little too, and he withdraws, slumping down on top of her tiredly. He rests his head on her chest, listening to her heart beat beneath his ear, and laughs again.

They lay together as their bodies began to cool, her hands slowly stroking over his back and shoulders, fingers combing through his sweaty hair before beginning the pattern all over again. "I love you," she says after awhile, and he can't help it, he laughs some more.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I love you, too," he answers. "Even if you are a little bossy."

"Good thing 'bossy' gets you off, then, huh?"

She's laughing now too, and he should probably be embarrassed, but fuck it.

"Yup," Damon says. "Good thing."


End file.
